


Rest

by ErinisMagic



Category: Septimus Heap - Angie Sage
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Septimus has two moms and they both love him unconditionally, Sickfic, nothing you can say will change my mind about this fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24757894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinisMagic/pseuds/ErinisMagic
Summary: It's just the flu. It's going around. Septimus will be over it in no time. Marcia's not worried, really.
Relationships: Septimus Heap & Marcia Overstrand
Comments: 13
Kudos: 36





	Rest

Marcia paced the length of her sitting room. It was not an activity she took lightly. In fact, she could hardly remember the last time she had paced like this; it had to have been about ten years ago, after her hasty appointment as ExtraOrdinary Wizard, when the Supreme Custodian was moving into the Castle and the Wizard Tower was holding its breath, waiting to see if they’d managed to hide the Princess well enough.

Marcia put an end to those thoughts with a sharp shake of her head. It always upset her to think about those times. But, she reminded herself, they were finally over—the Supreme Custodian’s ghastly reign had come to an end, DomDaniel was gone for good, and the Castle had at last been returned to its rightful heir. Not only that, but she had finally found a talented young Apprentice with whom she could begin to fix all the damage DomDaniel’s **Darke Magyk** had done.

The thought of her Apprentice brought the current cause of Marcia’s pacing back to the forefront of her mind, and she stopped at the bottom of the stairs with a frown. She listened closely and could easily hear Septimus’s heartbeat and his slightly labored breathing. It didn’t sound any better than it had that morning.

Marcia bit her lip. Septimus had been unwell for days by now, and she’d been hoping to see at least a little improvement.

It had started with what they had both assumed to be a cold. It had, after all, been damp, windy, and chilly all throughout the previous week; Marcia figured she ought to expect something poor to come of it. However, when the cold not only lingered but appeared to get worse, Marcia sent Septimus to the sick bay to get himself checked out. The sick bay duty Wizard sent him right back up to her with a small phial of medicine and the information that it was the flu, it was going around, and that he’d recover just fine with a little bit of rest

Though she had been annoyed that the sick bay hadn’t done anything more for Septimus, Marcia took their instructions to heart. She put Septimus’s lessons on hold and kept him confined to his bed under firm instructions that he was not to get up for anything; he was to spend his time resting and that was it. She would get anything he needed for him.

Despite Marcia’s best efforts, Septimus got no better.

Rather than going down to the sick bay and demanding that they do their job right and make Septimus better _right now,_ she had given in to Septimus’s requests and sent for Sarah. She had shown up at Marcia’s rooms that morning with a large bag of dried herbs and immediately shut herself into Septimus’s room, fussing over her son in a way only a mother could. Marcia had sat on the sofa in the sitting room, listening to their murmured conversation and hurriedly pretending to work when Sarah would occasionally venture out to get Septimus something to eat or drink.

But now the apartment was quiet. Sarah had left hours ago, driven home by the onset of night and signs of a chill rain moving in.

“He’ll be alright,” Sarah had said as she left. “Just make sure he’s resting and keeping up with the instructions from the Physician. He’ll be better in no time, don’t worry.”

Marcia remembered telling Sarah that _of course_ Septimus would be alright; she had full faith in the Wizard Tower sick bay and there was no need for anyone to be worried, least of all her. Sarah had just given her a knowing smile and scurried off.

That had been hours ago. Now the apartment was quiet, the only sounds being the gentle crackle of the fire and the occasional cough drifting out of Septimus’s room. It wasn’t, Marcia thought, the comforting kind of quiet.

Marcia hovered uncertainly at the bottom of the stairs, peering up into the darkness of the unlit hall. She’d spent the afternoon torn between wanting to go up and check on Septimus and feeling like she was intruding. Now that Sarah was gone, she told herself, there was nothing to intrude on. Still, something was holding her back.

She retreated from the staircase and made her way back to the kitchen. The coffeepot was being stubborn, as usual, but after much snapping and just a touch of yelling, Marcia managed to convince it to perform the simple task of boiling some water. That being done, she set about making a quick cup of lemon tea.

As she poured the water into the mug, she had a moment’s hesitation. She was well aware of Septimus’s rather odd tastes, and for a moment she wondered if she should have made cabbage and beet tea or some such nonsense. She firmly shook the thought off; she’d never been one to get experimental in the kitchen and besides, she didn’t have any cabbages. She stirred in a spoonful of honey for some sweetness and set off determinedly for Septimus’s bedroom.

Marcia’s resurgence of confidence lasted her out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the hall to Septimus’s room. Then, just in front of his door, it fizzled out. A flurry of doubts flew through her mind. Perhaps he was already asleep and she’d only be waking him up, or else he was feeling miserable and didn’t want to see her.

_Stop being ridiculous, Marcia,_ she told herself. She took a deep breath and knocked more gently than she’d ever knocked in her life.

“Come in,” Septimus’s stuffy voice drifted out from behind the door.

Marcia pushed the door open a crack and tentatively poked her head into the room. Septimus was sitting in his bed propped up by the pillows. In addition to the thick purple winter blanket Marcia had pulled out for him, he was also bundled up in a multicolored crocheted blanket no doubt provided by Sarah Heap. A single candle was lit on his bedside table; combined with the glow from Septimus’s dragon ring, it illuminated the far side of the room with a gentle golden light.

Marcia suddenly felt a little out her element. It was not a feeling she was used to having, especially not in her own apartment. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

Septimus shrugged one shoulder. “About the same,” he said with a small sniff.

“Hmm. I made you some tea.”

Even through the illness, the gratitude in Septimus’s smile was impossible to miss. “Thanks.”

Marcia crept into the room, her usual confident strides replaced with light padding on the balls of her feet—there was a hushed atmosphere to the room, and it gave her the feeling that even something as familiar as the _tippy tap_ of her purple python shoes would be unforgivably disruptive.

She waited a moment for Septimus to push himself into a slightly more upright position, then handed him the mug. She watched him carefully as he took a sip, waiting for any sign that it wasn’t to his liking. He winced and hurriedly swallowed, though Marcia suspected that was from the heat of the drink, because he blew into the mug for a few moments before taking another sip.

With the tea delivered and the reassurance that Septimus hadn’t gotten any worse, there wasn’t anything more for her to do there. For some reason, however, Marcia found herself reluctant to leave. Slowly, she leaned down and rested the back of her hand on Septimus’s forehead, the same way her mother had done when she had been sick as a child. Septimus watched her quizzically but didn’t stop her.

Marcia fought to keep a frown at bay. Though she would be the last to admit it, she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing. Of course, she knew in theory that she should be able to feel any fever-heat radiating off Septimus’s skin, but the truth of the matter was she had no clue what the normal temperature of a ten-year-old boy was supposed to feel like. She thought he felt a little hot, but then again, that’s what she was expecting to feel—it was entirely possible that she was letting her perceptions be swayed by her expectations.

A few tense seconds passed before Marcia drew her hand back. “You’re still warm,” she said, mostly because she felt she needed to say something.

Septimus took another sip of the tea. “Mum says the fever should go away in a day or two.”

“I would expect nothing less. Between the sick bay and Sarah’s herbs, you’ll be well enough to resume your lessons in no time.” Though Marcia had quite a few opinions when it came to the Heaps on a personal level, she had to admit that Sarah was quite skilled when it came to herbs and healing.

“I’m sure I could go back to at least some of them now.”

“Absolutely not,” Marcia said. “You’re still sick, and until you are one hundred percent better, you are not leaving this bed.”

“I wouldn’t have to,” Septimus argued back, “not for things like history or theory. That’s mostly just reading, I’d be able to handle that. I’ve been reading some of _The Castle’s **Magykal** History, _and—”

“Septimus,” Marcia cut him off sternly, “you’re supposed to be resting.”

“I can’t help it,” Septimus said with a sniff. “I’m bored. It’s not like I’m trying any spells.”

“And well you shouldn’t. It isn’t safe to do **Magyk** when you’re sick; very rarely is your head ever clear enough to do what you want it to, and it’s far too easy to mispronounce the words, which can land you in a heap of trouble. That’s the last thing you want when you’re not feeling well, and quite frankly, I have too much on my plate right now to have to deal with any accidental spell damage.”

The corner of Septimus’s lips twitched up into a wry smile. Marcia couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at the sight of it; she had promised herself that she wouldn’t give any lectures until Septimus was well enough to resume his lessons. “Right,” she said, moving towards the door, “I’ll leave you to get some sleep.”

“Um, Marcia?”

Marcia stopped in the doorway and turned to look back at Septimus. “Yes?”

Septimus wouldn’t meet her eyes—he was staring down at his lap, nervously playing with the edge of his blanket. “Maybe you could stay and read to me for a while? That would still count as me resting, wouldn’t it?”

A warm, fuzzy feeling rushed over Marcia, and she couldn’t stop the small smile from slipping out. She didn’t say anything, but she walked over to Septimus’s desk and grabbed the chair. She pulled the chair over next to Septimus’s bed and clicked her fingers. A small cluster of candles obligingly burst into flames, filling the room with a bright warm glow. Satisfied with the amount of light, Marcia sat down, picked up the book on Septimus’s bedside table, opened it up to the dogeared page, and began to read. “Shortly before the disappearance of Hotep-Ra, a great showdown occurred over the Castle between him and two notorious **Darke** Wizards, who were rumored to have hunted him around the world. It is from this battle that, according to legend, the Bottomless Whirlpool at Bleak Creek was created. The **Darke** Wizards were said to have, in the midst of the battle, turned on each other. For days, they chased each other across the Castle and eventually up to Bleak Creek, so evenly matched in skill that neither could gain any advantage.”

As she read, Marcia noticed Septimus’s eyes slowly drooping shut. For the first time ever, she was actually glad to see someone falling asleep while she was talking. She didn’t say anything on the matter. She lowered her voice just a touch and kept reading, trying to keep an even pace to lull Septimus further to sleep.

Soon enough, her tactic paid off. Septimus’s eyes slipped shut and his breathing deepened. Marcia allowed herself a small satisfied smile, marking the page she had stopped on and closing the book. She set it back down where she had found it and regarded her Apprentice for a moment.

She knew he was still adjusting to life outside of the Young Army. For the first few weeks after he had moved into the Wizard Tower, he had swung back and forth between pushing his new freedoms as far as he could and naturally falling back into the Army’s strict routines. It seemed to her that he was finally starting to find a balance. His room was neat and organized but he had, with her permission, started painting a beautiful mural of constellations across the walls and had hung up a fine collection of maps. He always listened to here, but he no longer jumped to follow her commands like he thought he would be punished if he didn’t get them done right away. Though he was—like all the Heaps except for Jenna—naturally pale, he no longer looked unhealthily so. In fact, up until recently, he looked to be well recovered—at least physically—from the abuses of his early childhood.

Seeing him look so ill now threw Marcia right back to when she had first found him as a Boy Soldier—stick thin and deathly white, frozen under a mound of snow. It had been mere chance that she found him at all. If Jenna had been discovered a day later, or if they had been just five minutes later coming back, Marcia doubted she ever would have met him. In fact, looking back on the circumstances, she realized that if she hadn’t been there, Septimus would have died. Despite the comfortable heat of the room, Marcia shivered. It didn’t bear thinking about.

As quietly as she could, Marcia stood up and tip-toed across the room. She blew out the candles on Septimus’s desk until the only light in the room was from his dragon ring, softer now as if even it was being careful not to disturb him.

Marcia knew it was time for her to leave, though she didn’t quite want to. She cast one last glance back at Septimus, so peaceful in his sleep. She crept back to his bedside and pulled his blankets up a little higher, tucking him in with a gentle touch. He smiled contentedly as he instinctively snuggled further into their warmth.

As softly as she could, Marcia pushed his hair back and placed a light kiss on Septimus’s forehead. Then she made her way out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for a book fandom, and I think I leaned a little too far into trying to echo Angie's voice here. It doesn't quite feel like my style, but at the same time, it doesn't feel like it's _not_ my style. It's a little weird, but I'm not necessarily unhappy with how it turned out.


End file.
